


Mythology

by PepperPrints



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think you're in the Underworld?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mythology

**Author's Note:**

> For the 30_kisses challenge. Prompt: "say ahh...."

 Chris had been imprisoned for over two days now, and he still wasn't eating.

 

Food was given very regularly, Wesker made certain of it, but every plate that was offered to him remained untouched, and Chris was suffering for his stubbornness. Chris didn't bothered to hide that he was trying to escape, and his insistent denial was robbing him of the strength he needed to succeed. With his body lacking what it needed, how did Chris expect to fight his way out of here? Chris could barely match Wesker on his best day, let alone half starved.

 

Surely Chris didn't think it all was poisoned? After so many years between them, that would have been a very unfitting end to their conflict – and since Chris starving alone in a cell was equally unsatisfactory, Wesker had to intervene.

 

Perhaps Wesker could inspire him. He hadn't spoken to Chris since his capture, and he knew his presence would have an impact. He entered the cell, and Chris didn't even attempt to take opportunity of the open door. Wesker expect him to try to ram through as he did with the guards who brought his meals, but he didn't even try to stand. Wesker wondered how much of that was exhaustion, and how much was knowing better than to challenge Wesker.

 

But of course, Chris never listened to common sense when it came to challenging him before.

 

Wesker looked at Chris, and then down at his plate. They were feeding him fruit, a mixed selection that came fresh from the area, and Wesker didn't find so much as a single seed missing.

 

“You really should eat, Chris,” he chided. “It isn't poison, and I can prove it to you, if that would make you more comfortable.”

 

Chris glared and said nothing, staying still where he sat, and Wesker smiled.

 

Wesker did not waste much time on fictions; there was only so much to be gained by fantasy. However, one did learn a lesson or two from older tales. When he glanced back at Chris's plate, realizing exactly what was on it, it seemed so natural.

 

“Do you think you're in the Underworld?”

 

Confusion crossed Chris's face, and he still did not speak. He was either staying stubborn, or was truly too parched to attempt it.

 

“It's quite a famous story,” continued Wesker. “Hades and Persephone.”

 

Chris did not look any more enlightened. Very well. Wesker came forward and he knelt across from Chris, the plate resting between them like a barrier. Wesker withdrew his knife without any display of threat, a gloved fingertip touching the edge.

 

“Hades ruled the Underworld,” he began. “He desired Persephone, so he kidnapped her, trapping her in his domain. Persephone was a stubborn prisoner, much like yourself, and she denied her hunger”

 

Chris stayed silent, blue eyes narrow, and Wesker kept speaking. “Of course, Demeter demanded the return of her daughter, and when the Gods came for Persephone, Hades was obliging and apologetic. He knew Persephone had starved herself, and knowing the long journey home ahead, he urged her to take one small morsel to appease her hunger.”

 

Wesker picked the pomegranate from the plate, holding it up so Chris could see. “This was a deception, of course,” he continued. “Since any who eat the food of the Underworld are bound to that domain forever.” With one fluid slice of his knife, he cut the fruit into two, exposing the seeds inside.

 

“You must be starving.”

 

Wesker reached down, gloved fingers catching a single seed and lifting it so Chris could see. Chris watched the motion closely, almost covetously, and Wesker couldn't imagine how his mouth must have watered at the very thought, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

 

There were theories that it wasn't an apple that Adam and Eve tasted in temptation, but a pomegranate instead.

 

Soon enough, Chris would be too exhausted for his resistance to matter. If he kept this up, refusing every meal, he would end up wasted on the floor of his cell, unable to fight if Wesker guided seeds against his lips. Wesker didn't want to force Chris; he wanted Chris to give in to his temptation.

 

However, a little encouragement could not go wrong.

 

Wesker reached down again, taking a few more seeds – six, he believed was how the myth was most commonly portrayed – and he lifted them to his lips. He placed them inside his mouth, not swallowing but holding them there, and that was when he grabbed Chris by the front of his shirt, dragging him forward and pressing their lips together.

 

Chris lashed out immediately, for what little good it did him. His exhaustion showed through in every motion. Chris thrashed and kicked, but Wesker held him in place, pressing his tongue past Chris's lips. Chris mouth was so dry, stale, but there was nothing that could possibly dissuade Wesker from him. He could feel Chris struggling, not just trying to break from his hold, but fighting what his own body demanded of him. Kissing Wesker was the closest thing to a cool glass of water that Chris had seen in days.

 

Wesker smirked and rolled his tongue, guiding the seeds inside Chris's mouth. The thrashing doubled, and Wesker held him for a moment, making certain Chris would not push the seeds back out again. Chris tried, quite desperately in fact, but Wesker overpowered him with ease. The taste of pomegranate was in the kiss now, slicking Chris's mouth and staining him red.

 

How suiting it would be, if he could keep Chris here, as he birthed the new world. Persephone was trapped in her fate, but she did not lose her spirit. She ruled the Underworld with Hades; she grew to take his love, and even more than that, she defended it as hers alone, chasing any other suitors who attempted seduction. She had been his prisoner, but she captured a part of him as well.

 

Wesker found it apt, all things considered.

 

Wesker released Chris then, letting him stumble back. Chris lost his balance, falling back clumsily, and Wesker smirked, but the expression did not last after what Chris did next.

 

Chris sat up, his face scowling, and he spat the seeds out onto the floor.

 

Wesker felt a rush at the defiance, and his eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. “You should have swallowed,” he said quietly, “you have no Demeter.”

 

Chris straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His jaw was tightly clenched, his throat working as he forced out a response. “Go to hell,” he rasped, his voice scratchy and raw from thirst, which must have pained him twice as badly as the hunger.

 

Wesker did not even falter. “For the sake of the metaphor, this is hell,” he responded smoothly. “And you could rule it.”

 

Wesker paused, his gaze fixing on the seeds that Chris had dropped onto the cell's stone floor. Five. He glanced back at Chris, their eyes meeting, and Chris's expression made it clear that he had been caught.

 

There were five seeds on the floor; Wesker had fed him six.

 

Wesker was smirking again, and he rose to his feet, giving a lingering touch to Chris's cheek.

 

“Your winters are mine.”


End file.
